


and all our yesterdays

by highboys (orphan_account)



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou
Genre: Beaches, Domestic, Future Fic, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/highboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What a beautiful family," the flight attendant tells them, on their way out. "But it's so late in November for a vacation, isn't it?"</p><p>"Ah," says the man, tipping his hat lower. "My son's too spoiled in his whims, is he not?"</p><p>"The beach," the little boy chants, swinging their hands back and forth, back and forth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and all our yesterdays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vividzephyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vividzephyr/gifts).



> Admittedly, this is a very poor attempt at request #3. Babysitting fit, only the fun part was drowned out by less important things like UST. This is set in the future, provided canon doesn't dictate any of the involved characters being put on a bus.

 

**10:45**

 

The sky is clear when they get off the plane. The man with the shady sunglasses and the drab coat offers his hand to the younger man beside him, but it is the child between them that takes it. "What a beautiful family," the flight attendant tells them, on their way out. "But it's so late in November for a vacation, isn't it?"

"Ah," says the man, tipping his hat lower. "My son's too spoiled in his whims, is he not?"

"The beach," the little boy chants, swinging their hands back and forth, back and forth.

"Let's just get this over with," says the other man, slinging his bag over his shoulder and shoving his hands inside his pockets.

"What was that noise?" The flight attendant asks, looking around for any signs of a disgruntled cat. The other man is already stalking away.

 

**12:15**

 

They rent a car not because it is necessary, but because one of them can afford to make use of his generous expense account, the same way he could afford the plane tickets without batting an eyelash at the total. His companion watches with not a little irritation as the man fills out the requisite paperwork and passes over a fake ID to the agent.

"We could have taken the bus," he says. Beside him, the little boy is kept pacified with a colorful brochure; it will be rendered a tattered attempt at origami before the hour is up. "And you could really be a little more creative with your fake names, you know. I'm surprised no one's made the connection given how obvious your preference for your latest role is, Natori-san."

"Natsume," says Natori, "I didn't know you cared enough to stalk my latest drama. I thought you were too busy with work. Who knew?"

Natsume's lips tighten into a thin line.

"I'm only kidding," says Natori, sighing. "Natsume's so serious, isn't he, chibi-chan?"

"Uh huh," says the little boy, the edges of his eyes crinkling at the joke.

"Ha ha," says Natsume, slouching and kicking the (laughing?) bag underneath him with the practiced ease of forced close combat. It shouldn't make him feel so good to watch Natori pretend he's the one making choking noises, but it does.

 

**14:23**

 

Okinawa in late November is not as humid as in July; the weather forecast says there will be a possible rainfall tomorrow, so the beaches are not as populated as they could have been. Natori, true to form, takes advantage of the precarious weather and coaxes Natsume with the promise of food and non-alcoholic beverages.

The little boy beams at the wide expanse of sand, the waves lapping at the shore. He takes off his sandals at the first touch of water; he sets his floppy hat down and trembles in anticipation.

"It's alright," Natori calls out, from the porch. "You can change back now."

The little boy bites his lip; he shuffles his feet, getting grit and sand all over his soles.

"I promise no one will be able to see you," says Natori, softly, this time. "Go out and play, kitsune-chan."

A fluffy tail wags in response, and Natori shakes his head at the kitsune's fascination with a crab. He turns to his other companion, delighting in the disbelief on Natsume's face.

"I don't understand," says Natsume. "How on earth can you be given a private beach without having to work for it? Are you prostituting yourself?"

"IDIOT," booms the voice of god from the balcony of the beach house. Clearly, Nyanko-sensei is still peeved at the abuses wrought on his person. "Don't ask stupid questions. And where's my watermelon, cretin?"

"It's not in season," Natsume yells back.

"I think Hiiragi's brought a couple," says Natori, vaguely.

" _Slavery_ ," says Natsume, severely, even as Hiiragi makes a discreet nudge at her ever-present weapon.

"I'm a pragmatic person," says Natori. He takes off his sunglasses and sets them down on the coffee table. His eyes are alight with amusement but they are dark and sharp and unyielding. Natsume is almost tempted to avert his gaze.

"No exorcisms today," says Natsume, firmly.

"Of course," Natori demurs.

Natsume does not believe him. Natori does not even believe himself.

Natori is, of course an actor, and a brilliant one at that.

 

**19:10**

 

Natsume passes out on the couch after a futile attempt at playing treasure hunt with an otherworldly deity and an enthusiastic fox. He knows he is only human but he feels his weakness keenly when he least expects it. There is only so much expendable energy a human has before a headache becomes the least of his worries.

When he wakes, the fox boy is chattering happily with Natori, who feeds him purple yam and tofu and _gurukun_ served on a porcelain dish. Nyanko-sensei is digging through what appears to be his fifth bowl of soba, and Hiiragi quietly offers him a cup of water at his side.

It's a welcome relief, when he has not realized he is so parched. Hiiragi makes no sound when he passes the cup back to her with a smile; when she rises to leave, it is Natori who replaces her.

"Hello," says Natori, holding a plate of fish in one hand and a bottle of _awamori_ in the other. His sunglasses hang loosely on the collar of his button-down shirt; the sleeves are pushed back to his elbows.

"Hello," says Natsume. His hand brushes against Natori's as he takes the proffered serving; Natori's fingers are sticky-sweet with yam and what smells like _kurosato_. Natsume stifles the ache that pools deep in his belly with a hurried bite of rice.

Natori lets Hiiragi pour some wine into Natsume's cup; when he takes a sip, Natsume flushes, wondering if his mouth is aligned to where Natsume's own was, if he even realizes this.

The fox boy pads over to both of them and rests his head on Natori's lap; it has taken weeks of careful proximity and bribery into the fox boy's heart for him to be so comfortable around Natori. If only he could understand that Natori is not completely kind in the way that Natsume is not completely human -- perhaps it is the fox boy who sees more than Natsume, or perhaps it is none of those options at all.

When the fox boy's eyes are firmly shut and his breathing comes in slow, even gaps, Natori passes a hand through the fox boy's ears, the softness of his hair. It looks almost -- Natsume squints -- _right_.

"I missed you this afternoon," says Natori. Natsume sets down his plate.

"Did you conveniently disappear to find out if there are spirits on the shore?" Natsume says, sharply.

"Yes," says Natori, honestly. "But you forget I'm on vacation with you."

The considering look Natsume aims at him is not abated; if anything, Natori considers exorcism as a mercy, not as punishment. Natsume thinks of the flecks of light in the distance, transparent for all their solemnity, but Natsume forgets: this is a vacation, not an exorcism.

"Are you afraid?" Natori asks.

"No," says Natsume, looking at his hands.

The next time Natori offers him a drink from his own cup, Natsume takes it.

 

**22:57**

 

They go to sleep with Natsume's hands fisted around Natori's robe and Natori mouthing violence into his skin, his mouth, his tongue. Natsume was never a very patient man.

 

**09:10**

 

They make it back to Tokyo in the morning, with time to spare before Natori's next photoshoot.

He drops them off at the train station and walks them to the ticket counter. He lets Natsume finish checking his bag (i.e. stuffing Nyanko-sensei back inside when he smells _okonomiyaki_ in the distance) before he shifts the weight of the fox boy in his arms.

"Well," says Natori, "don't we look heartbreakingly domestic?"

"Very funny," says Natsume. "I hope you don't think I sleep with you for your humor."

"You're so cruel," says Natori, smiling. The fox boy rests his cheek against the lapels of Natori's jacket, drowsy and boneless in Natori's arms. Natsume feels something grow thick in his throat, and he swallows as he receives the child from Natori with something akin to gentleness.

"Thank you," says Natsume, the words coming out rushed and flustered. "For inviting us, I mean. He doesn't get to see the sea much, and he really does like you, and --"

"Takashi," says Natori. He steps closer. Natsume is still. "Thank you for coming with me." His eyes are darker, now, with something like a promise. Natsume's breath stutters in his throat.

"You're welcome," says Natsume. After that, there is only this: Natori's mouth, dry and hot, his shadow swallowing Natsume's until he cannot tell where he starts and ends.

The sky is clear when they pull away. Natori watches as Natsume cradles the fox boy closer, watches as he turns and walks away, the diminutive cat in his bag hurling invectives in his wake. It is only when they push past the handle bars that Natori remembers to look at his watch.

Time to go home. Only, perhaps, he has already left it.

 


End file.
